The Song of You

and its like: I create about you when you aren't there, and the art tries its best to make you real, and then I see you and its like you are the physical representation of a song I have just written, and you are alive and breathing and the song is an invisible thing that only I can give life to when I play and sing it. In reality the song I have just written doesn't really exist, it just exists in my dream of you when you are gone. I don't want to write another song about you.

The Indigestible Kiss

The indigestable kiss, the mystery of her emotion. My feeling surrounds her in dark romance. Oour eyes locked in their embrace and can mystery be blamed for fantasy? And can there be no arbiter? And can there be no just conclusion When we leave to go our settled separate ways? And can the heart remember well and the be kind always in its memory>? Lost in just a moment her memory surrounds me. Freedom is hard to find and I look another way to another direction where she can't be found. Quiet memory appeals to me. It warms me with its thought and the thought of closure. It is almost summer and the birds are singing, they punctuate my silence until they grow silent themselves. And there is music in my reflections and the songs sing of love and the song was from the heart when the heart was filled with truth.